


i can see the stars all the way from here

by mushroombiome



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Stress Baking, Trapped In Elevator, eric richard bittle is a big gay mess :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7134620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroombiome/pseuds/mushroombiome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric owns a bakery and his pies are known to grace not only the stands of his own bakery but also the tables of many special events throughout Providence. One day, literally every oven in Eric's vicinity breaks down including his own oven and the ovens in the bakery. It just so happens Jack Zimmermann, an NHL Star and player for the Providence Falconers, lives in the apartment across from him and is willing to offer his own oven to help Eric out.</p><p>And thus, a beautiful friendship (or MORE?????) is born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hey, i just met you and this is crazy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a great jumble of AUs:  
> -I'm a baker and literally all the ovens I can access are broken and I live next door to you can I use your oven in the mean time pretty please AU  
> -stuck in an elevator AU  
> -Jack didn't go to Samwell AU  
> -Bitty never did hockey and was an assistant manager and then graduated and started a business with Shitty and Lardo AU
> 
> this was supposed to be a oneshot this went WAY LONGER THAN i expected and now i have to cut everything up in chapters bc my google word doc is going past 18 chapters help me
> 
> TITLE: love on top - beyonce
> 
> THIS IS NOT BETA'D, pardon for all the mistakes

Eric is going to die.

The concrete ground below is going to swallow him up whole and he’s just gonna fall right into the pits of hell. Are the conservative bigots right? Does God really hate the gays?

 **Dex (7:32pm)**  
I’m sorry, but the oven just can’t be fixed :( I’ve tried everything I can

Maybe God just hates this particular blond southern gay baker, Eric thinks as his thumb furiously types out a response to Dex. There’s probably a quote in the Bible and probably in Leviticus (because super scary out of context Bible quotes always come from Leviticus for some reason) dedicated just for Eric Richard Bittle. And how he deserved to have a miserable life filled with bad luck or something. Miserable gay luck.

 **Bitty (7:34pm)** _  
_ What do you mean?!

Suddenly, the phone rings, the caller ID showing the name of one William Poindexter.

“Dex,” Eric greets. “What’s going on with Betsy?” He sounds almost desperate, but at this point in time he could not care less.

“Her wiring is all frayed out,” Dex replies. “And she’s all rusted out. I’m sorry, Bitty, I know you love her, but she’s an old ass oven. I don’t think I can save her this time.”

Eric swears under his breath, something that his mama and the Lord above definitely would not approve of.

“I know you’re on a tight schedule,” Dex says. “With the bakery and your orders and whatnot, but I can leave you my oven. I can also ask Chris, too.”

“Oh, it’s alright. You worked really hard, plus I’m pretty sure you and Chris have dates with your significant others in your apartments. I’d rather not intrude. And it’s rather inconvenient for me to move all my baking stuff from one floor to another.”

“I wouldn’t mind. Nursey wouldn’t either.”

“I really don’t wanna impose! My Southern manners are too strong for me to invade your kitchen. Look, I’ll see you later; I’m about to head back to the building.”

“Alright. If you do need an oven, though just send a text.”

“Honestly, Dex, I don’t think I can ever thank you enough.”

Dex chuckles. “As long as I get your world famous pie.”

“Multiple chocolate silk pies for your endeavors.”

“Hell yeah! I’ll see you later, Bitty.”

“Bye, Dex.”

Eric sighs and takes a huge gulp of scalding hot coffee. It’s not vodka or tequila, but might as well be close enough. However, right when he brings his cup down, things take a turn for the worse.

“Watch out!”

Eric looks up and finds himself plummeting face first into someone’s chest. And his coffee finds itself on top of said chest and clothes.

“Shit, fuck, motherfucker!”

Eric has never swore this much in one day. Maybe he _should_ go to church on Sunday to atone for his sins.

He stares at his own stained shirt. Damn, this was his favorite Beyonce merch. He then remembers that there is a second party to this complete and utter mess. And that it was his own reckless fault that he got this person into this figurative and literal mess.

“Oh my gosh,” Eric says, picking up his phone (luckily, it dropped in soft dirt and NOT on the concrete sidewalk. He would have died right then and there) and placing it in his pocket. “I am so so sorry. If my mother saw how disrespectful I was being, she would drive all the way up from Georgia and kick my sorry ass all the way to hell.”

Eric looks up (because sweet Jesus, this person is tall) and sees the most attractive man that he’s ever laid his sweet gay eyes upon. This man has such a broad and muscular chest with sweet blue eyes and a smirk on his face. The suit and tie he’s wearing _does not_ help with Eric’s resistance to ogle this stranger. It also doesn’t help his guilt because that looks like a really nice and expensive suit and tie.

“It’s quite alright,” the man says with an accent that Eric can’t pick out. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Cute Tall Muscles Man looks incredibly familiar. Where has he seen him before? “Glad you caught me after my meeting, though.”

“Oh gosh,” Eric says, his cheeks burning. “I feel terrible! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it! I was gonna get coffee but I’ll just head home with you.”

He frowns. “With me?”

“Yeah. We’re in the same building. Actually, I’m in the apartment across you. I’ve seen you around but I don’t think we’ve ever talked.”

Oh.

Oh lord.

With every passing minute, Eric is starting to believe that, no, he isn’t going to hell, but rather, he’s _already in Hell._ And God and Satan are probably meeting up in purgatory to laugh at this sorry little ass.

“I’m so sorry for inconveniencing you,” Eric stammers, throwing the cup of coffee into the trash. “And I’m so sorry for not recognizing you. I rarely know anyone in the building except for a couple of guys who live the floor above us and that’s because I went to college with them.”

“It’s alright. I’m not really familiar with my neighbors, except for you. What is your name, by the way?”

“Eric Bittle.”

“Jack Zimmermann.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Their apartment building is just a block away. Eric would love to get to know Cute Muscles Man-- ahem, _Jack_ , but he gets a call from his coworker right as they start walking.

“Lardo,” he says as soon as he answers the phone. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“Sorry, Bitty,” Lardo replies as Eric and Jack head into the elevator. “The ovens are still being fixed. But we did get a few more calls.”

“Oh no…”

“Yeah. I got three more orders.”

“Oh, _no._ ”

“Do you want me to--?”

“No, please don’t tell me how many pies I have to bake for each order.”

“Look, I can’t really bake, but call me or Shitty if you need any help, okay? I emailed you all the orders so you can catalogue how much you need to bake.”

“Okay.” No, it isn’t really okay but he wasn’t going to tell Lardo that. He is going to smile and suck it up like the well-mannered man his mom raised him to be.

“Breathe, Eric. It’s gonna be okay. They’re gonna love it and you’re gonna get paid and it’s going to be okay. And plus, half the orders can be baked on their respective event dates! I think the first one isn’t until a few weeks. So focus on replenishing the bakery, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks again. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye!”

Suddenly, the elevator jerks to a stop before they can reach to their apartment floor. The doors don’t open and Eric finds himself trapped in a small elevator. With an incredibly cute and nicely built guy.

“Oh no,” Jack says.

“Are you kidding me?” Eric replies pressing the call button. “They really need to get these elevators tuned up.”

“Hello,” a voice from the intercom says. “Is the elevator broken again?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, we’ll get maintenance in as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.” Under his breath, Eric mutters, “As soon as possible, my ass.”

He freezes, realizing that he’s not the only one in the elevator. He turns his head to find Jack, his next door neighbor, leaning against the wall and shooting him an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” Eric mutters, sinking to the ground.

“Bad day?” Jack replies, following suit.

“Yes.”

“Wanna talk about it? Or rant?”

Eric looks up from Instagram and glances at Jack watching him, waiting for a response.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies. “Why not? It’s not like we’ll be heading out everywhere.” He huffs. “Anyways, I work for for a coffee shop slash bakery slash catering company that my friend Larissa, well, Lardo and her friend created out of college. And they hired me when I was out of college because I’m a baker and for some reason everyone loves my baking. And I just got nine orders to bring pie in for nine different events. Honestly, I think two of them are for high society events so that makes it even more stressful. Sometimes I get those kinds of customers, I once baked for a special event where the mayor was at? So that was interesting. But stressful Anyways, the worst part is literally all the ovens are broken. The ones in the cafe kitchens have all broken down and my oven in my apartment is so old that it finally died out. I mean, I would take the help of my college friends but they have their own lives, y’know? Plus, they live a floor above me and I don’t know if I can commit to running up and down the stairs to grab baking ingredients--”

Eric stops, realizing that he’s been rambling for about five minutes.

“Sorry,” he adds. “That was probably really overwhelming to listen to.”

“It’s alright,” Jack replies. “Sometimes you need to let it all out.”

“Well, enough about me. What about you?”

“I play hockey.”

“Oh, that’s cool! Most of my friends were on the hockey team in college. I was the assistant manager.”

“Oh wow, that’s really great. I, uh. I’m on the NHL.”

Eric’s eyes widen.

“That’s amazing!” he says. “So that means you’re in the Falconers, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for not recognizing you. I only know the very basics of hockey. Nothing outside of teams and all that jazz. You probably get a lot of people stopping you on the streets, huh?”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to be anonymous sometimes.”

There’s a few moments of silence, with Jack playing around with his coffee stained shirt and Eric browsing Snapchat until the elevator jolts back to life.

“Oh, thank God,” Eric mutters, standing up.

“At least they’re usually really quick with the maintenance, eh?” Jack asks.

“Yeah.” Eric sees Jack pick off the shirt off his skin; the coffee must have dried off and is now sticking to the skin. “Listen, I’m incredibly sorry about the coffee. I can make it up for you.”

“Only if you take me to your bakery.”

Eric almost beams. For a moment, he wonders if Jack’s trying to flirt with him but… no way. He’s a professional athlete. He’s probably as straight as the dry spaghetti noodles in his cupboard that he hasn’t touched in weeks. Damn.

“Of course!” he says, regardless. “Anything to bring business in.”

They step out of the elevator and Bitty has never been relieved to see the slightly creepy hallways that remind him of the Shining (made worse by the fact that there’s a family with twin children that live at the end of the hallway. He knows because he’s had to borrow sugar from them multiple times.)

Jack and Eric; exhausted of any conversation (and just exhausted in general), say nothing as they shuffle back to their apartments. However, before they reach their respective doorways, Jack asks a question.

“Do you wanna use my oven?”

Eric’s head shoots up from his phone, browsing Pinterest with no shame. “I’m sorry?”

Jack shrugs. “I mean, I rarely use it and it’s not too inconvenient because we live across from each other so you don’t have to worry about running back and forth very long

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to impose or get in the way of anything!”

“I really don’t mind. My schedule mostly consists of hockey, workout, and sleep.”

“While I question your lifestyle choices, I will accept it on the grounds that you are a goddamn lifesaver. When are you usually free?”

“I have practice in the morning but I usually off at lunch. If you need a lot of time to use my kitchen, I can even give you a spare key to my apartment.”

“My word! Usually you would take a man out to dinner first before rushing into things!”

Jack laughs. “Good one. At least let me give you my phone number so we can text each other.”

“Good idea.”

Eric and Jack exchange numbers and a farewell before calling it a night. After Eric gives a solemn look at his old oven, he strips down to his boxers and crashes onto his bed, the events of the day finally wearing out his body.

He mindlessly thumbs through social media, his mind on Jack: his nice hair, his broad shoulders, his kinda droopy, yet soft blue eyes--

Eric shakes his head, trying to erase the thoughts from his mind. He is STRAIGHT, he reminds himself. Don’t you DARE let your mind wander off like that.

Nonetheless, Eric looks up “jack zimmermann gay” into Google. The results aren’t what he expected.

He was expecting to come up short, but Eric finds himself reading articles about the tragic past of Jack Zimmermann and Kent Parson: how they were the biggest deal in hockey history, how they tackled the Junior Hockey’s stats (whatever that means), and how they were on the rise to become the next biggest hockey stars since Bad Bob Zimmermann (Jack’s dad, apparently).

How Kent went first in the NHL Draft for the Aces. How everything came crashing down for Jack, how his life was (well, still is, probably) riddled with anxiety, how he overdosed and got sent to rehab.

Luckily, Eric finds that a few years later, Jack bounced back and joined some international leagues before finally reaching the NHL and the Providence Falconers. Seeing Jack now in the hour that he's interacted with him, Eric thinks that he's been doing much better since he got out of rehab.

In a more gossip-y websites, Eric reads about speculations of how there might have been a possible relationship between Kent and Jack as shown through really grainy videos and supposed “eyewitness” accounts. How there might have been a possible falling out or a messy breakup because they rarely interact anymore. Hell, he’s even found multiple fanfiction websites that has pages of Kent/Jack fanfiction dating all the way back to 2010.

Shit. Well.

Eric places his phone on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling, trying to absorb all this information.

With one more venture into Jack Zimmerman’s fame, Bitty goes into iMessage, selects the group chat titled “~SAMWELL HOCKEY BOIZ (+awesome girl manager & gay baker boi)~”, and and sends a message.

 **Bitty (8:59pm)**  
Hey. Do y’all know Jack Zimmermann?

 **Shitty (8:59pm)**  
??????????

 **Shitty (8:59pm)** **  
** eric richard bitty bittle. u r asking a group of hocke y players if they know jack zimmermann

 **Shitty (8:59pm)**  
bits it’s like asking any breathing human who BEYONCE is

 **Dex (9:00pm)**  
Yeah, Jack Zimmermann is one of the biggest and renowned players in the hockey world. He plays here in Providence for the Falconers

 **Chowder (9:00pm)**  
OMG!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE JACK ZIMMERMANN!!!!!! I dont love him as much as i love the sharks but he’s up there!!!!!!!

 **Lardo (9:00pm)**  
dude. he’s bad bob’s son. bad bob, the three-time stanley cup winner? and jack zimmerman of the falconers who’s already won one stanley cup in his short hockey career????

 **Shitty (9:00pm)**  
also: jack zimmermann, bearer of the Best Ass The Entire World Has Ever Seen????

 **Lardo (9:01pm)**  
even _i_ know this. bitty u were the assistant manager. what rock have u been living under

 **Bitty (9:01pm)**  
Oh wow

 **Dex (9:01pm)**  
Why do you ask???

 **Bitty (9:05pm)**  
Do you guys know if he’s straight?

 **Bitty (9:05pm)**  
Just wondering

 **Shitty (9:06pm)**  
theres a lot of speculation w/ kent parson and jack but no one rly knows??? he did go to an nhl event with tennis superstar camilla collins but that was like one time a few years ago. i doubt they’re together much less talking much tho

 **Shitty (9:06pm)**  
Why do u ask

 **Bitty (9:06pm)**  
Like I said, I’m just wondering.

 **Lardo (9:07pm)**  
Bitty has something he’s not telling us. who puts a fkn period at the end of their text like that. eric bittle. S P I L L

 **Bitty (9:07pm)**  
It’s nothing, I promise!!

 **Nursey (9:07pm)**  
bitty can i quote you two years ago saying u didn't and still probably don't really care about “these nhl shenanigans”

 **Bitty (9:08pm)**  
FINE

 **Bitty (9:09pm)**  
Jack lives in the apartment across from mine and might have flirted with me but idk? I mean we just met so I don’t really wanna jump to conclusions. But on the bright side he’s offering his neglected oven so I can work on orders for customers

 **Shitty (9:09pm)**  
BITTY WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 **Chowder (9:09pm)**  
OGMOGMOGMOGMOMGOMG YOU’RE NEXT DOOR NEIGHBORS WITH JACK ZIMMERMANN!???!!!!!!!

 **Shitty (9:09pm)**  
DEETS!!!!!!! DEETS DEEDTGFS DETFGSDCJQIFWA

 **Bitty (9:10pm)**  
Guys x____x

 **Shitty (9:10pm)**  
DID OR DID U NOT GET THE ZIMMERBOOTY

 **Nursey (9:11pm)**  
are you TELLING ME that JACK ZIMMERMANN LIVES A FLOOR BELOW DEX

 **Dex (9:11pm)**  
Holy fuck???

 **Nursey (9:12pm)** **  
** WILLIAM I’M MOVING INTO YOUR APARTMENT PRONTO

 **Shitty (9:12pm)**  
EVERYONE GET THEIR ASSES ON SKYPE PRONTO!!!!!!!!!!!! BITTY UR NOT GETTING OUT OF THIS

* * *

Eric wakes up at asscrack o’clock to get started on baking the pies but not before pressing the snooze button a total of four times and resisting the temptation to throw his phone across the room because sweet lord of heaven on high if he has to listen to Marimba _one more time…_

When he’s more awake, Eric thumbs through his notifications to find that he has a few unread messages, reading a few messages from the group chat after he fell asleep. The Skype group call the previous night consisted of constant yelling for the first five minutes ("I cannot FUCKING BELIEVE you live next to JACK FUCKING ZIMMERMANN" "Can you tell Jack that I love him?" "Invite him over to the bakery!") and then transitioned into Eric describing his embarrassing encounter with Jack which earned him five more minutes ("So technically you checked him?" "Only you, Eric Richard Bittle.") before reassuring him about his small crush ("Honestly, from the sounds of it he seems charmed by you. What person would offer their apartment to an almost stranger?" "I mean I can't see why the whole thing with Kent and Jack can't be true, so you might have a chance." "Eric Richard Bittle, you are simultaneously the cutest and hottest man this world has ever seen and Jack would be an idiot to not see that.") Things got a bit carried away but Eric did end the call with a huge smile on his face. He knew he could count on his friends to be supportive in his endeavors.

After catching up on the group chat, he sees an unread message from an unlisted number.

 **Jack (4:43am)**  
I’m awake right now, so feel free to come by whenever

 **Jack (4:50am)**  
This is Jack, btw

He frowns. Who in their right mind is up at five A.M. on a Sunday morning?

In a total of one and a half hours, he throws on a pair of sweatpants, a Beyonce shirt he bought from her Formation concert and packs all his essential baking supplies and ingredients in his blue Ikea. Any extra ingredients he can always run across the way to get.

He heads out of his own apartment and walks to Jack’s. After a brief knocking, Eric is greeted by a man who looks far too bright and awake for seven in the morning.

“Morning,” Jack says.

“Hi,” Eric croaks, the first time speaking since he woke up.

“Still waking up?”

“Yeah. I’m not usually up at this hour.”

“Do you want me to make you some coffee? That way, I can lead you into the kitchen.”

“That would be wonderful.”

The first time Eric steps into the kitchen, his eyes almost jump out of his sockets.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” Eric mutters, dropping his Ikea bag on the floor. He runs his fingers through the granite counters and stainless steel appliances. “This is the most pristine and beautiful kitchen I have ever seen.”

“It’s clean because I rarely use it,” Jack says, walking towards the coffee maker. “I wish I could, but hockey takes up a lot of my time.”

Eric stops his ogling of the kitchen and glances at Jack pouring coffee grounds into the filter. He thinks about all the things he’s read last night. How this man standing in front of him is one of the most famous hockey players who also has gone through hell and back.

“My fridge is mostly empty if you need to use it,” Jack then says, taking Eric out of his trance.

“Mostly empty?” he replies, peeking into the fridge. Jack was right. There’s nothing in there except for water, bread, a bottle full of a weird beige sludge, and a carton of eggs. “What do you usually eat, then?”

“I’m fine with just eggs and protein shakes. My team and I go out to eat a lot though. I’ve tried to cook before but that really didn’t work out.”

“You should stop by sometime when I have a free day. I cook up a great steak and mashed potatoes."

“I just might need to take you up on that offer.” There's something in Jack's smile and gaze that leaves Eric a little flustered, but he brushes it off as Jack just being friendly.

Suddenly, the shrill call of the phone rings through the room. Eric was about to check his own phone until he sees Jack pull out his own phone from his pocket.

“Sorry,” he says. “I need to take this phone call. Make yourself at home.”

“Of course!” Eric replies. What he hears when Jack answers the call almost floors him.

“Salut, Papa! Ça va? ... Ça va bien, et toi? ... Et Maman? … Ah, génial. Pourquoi as-tu appelé?”

Eric blinks a few times as Jack’s voice fades away into the living room. He leans his head against the really nice stainless steel fridge and he groans loudly.

Great, the Incredibly Cute And Most Likely Straight Hockey Guy speaks French, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued.... :D


	2. i never thought i'd get hit by this lovebug again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -more bonding between eric and jack 
> 
> -ransom and holster are the Best Wingmen Ever
> 
> -and some harmless pining (jack really likes eric)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friends!!!! i am so sry for the long wait! luckily there is one more chapter to go!!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter of fluff
> 
> again, this is not beta'd, so pardon any mistakes of any kind

It’s not that Jack Zimmermann isn’t a terrible player as the media wanted (or, he guesses, still wants) him to be, considering his past, but there’s no excuse for the captain of the Providence Falconers to be spacing the fuck out during practice, especially when he has new plays he needs to try out for the upcoming season.

Maybe it’s just a rough day. The coaches end practice a bit early on the notion that they’ve been working really hard for the first game but everyone knows it’s because everyone, especially Jack has been off their A-game today.

“Hey,” one of the coaches says, grabbing Jack’s shoulder in comfort. “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I guess today’s just not my day.”

The coach nods. “Remember, if there’s any problems, feel free to talk to us or George, okay?”

Jack nods. He always gets that talk after a pretty rough practice. He isn’t sure if it’s because he’s the captain or if they still keep an eye out on him because of his overdose. He tries not to think about it too much. As he heads back into the locker room, he digs through his bag and finds a couple of texts from the neighbor that’s been occupying his kitchen for the past week.

 **Eric (10:41am)**   
I have a few extra pies out on your counter if you want! You get out of practice during noon right? :0 They aren’t bakery worthy but they are definitely worthy for a homecooked meal!

Jack smiles. He and Eric have been exchanging texts ever since they ran into each other. Surprisingly, it’s been easy to talk to him, considering the short time they’ve known each other. Eric would just send a text, all warm and welcoming and Jack would find it easy to answer back without having to think about his texts too much.

The previous day was a particularly busy day for Eric’s bakery; as a result, they ran out of pies incredibly fast and were unable to replenish the stock since the ovens were still being repaired. Thus, Jack once again found Eric at his doorstep early in the morning and half-asleep to bake more pies.

“Whoa Jackie boy, what are you smiling about?”

Jack looks up to find the two defensemen on his line--Justin and Adam, or more commonly known as Ransom and Holster-- staring at him with strange looks on their faces.

“Oh nothing,” he says, stuffing the phone back into his bag. “Someone just texted me.”

Suddenly, Ransom and Holster are crowding right behind him as if they weren’t across the room just three seconds ago.

“Um, excuse me?!” Holster bellows in his 6’4” glory. “‘Someone’ just doesn’t text the great Jack Zimmermann. Who is this ‘someone’? You took one look at that phone of yours and your face lit up like the goddamn Fourth of July. Or First of July for my two beautiful Canadians in front of me.

“Yeah,” Ransom adds. “Who’s the lucky girl? _Or lucky guy?”_

“He’s just my neighbor,” Jack says, swatting them away with his hockey gear so he can untie his skates. “He lives across the hall. He owns a bakery and all his ovens are botched so he politely asked to use my oven.”

“Ooh,” Holster says. “A baker boy. Great choice. Cooking? the fastest way to anyone’s heart.” He slings an arm over Jack. “Tell me Jacques. What does he look like? Is he cute? Gorgeous? Devilishly handsome?”

Jack says nothing but he can’t help the feeling of his cheeks burning.

“Dude!” Ransom exclaims. “You are blushing so hard! He’s cute as fuck!”

“Okay,” Jack admits in defeat. “Maybe he is. But he’s been really busy lately so I doubt dating is at the top of his priority list anyways. Before you say anything else, I don’t even know if he likes guys or if he has a partner.”

“We can #investigate,” Holster says.

“Did you really just say ‘hashtag investigate’ out loud?” Ransom asks.

Jack huffs. “Okay guys. You can meet him but don’t be weird, okay? He texted me saying that there might be pies for you to try out and you know Crystal is gonna kill me if she sees that I’ve eaten three pies over a week.”

The whooping and hollering of Ransom and Holster, not only in “meeting Jack’s boo” but also eating some delicious home cooked pie because holy shit I haven’t had pie since I visited my family in Toronto”, was enough to leave Jack alone to take off his uniform.

As he walks towards the showers, Jack pulls out his phone and starts texting Eric.

 **Jack (12:42pm)** **  
** I’m bringing two of my teammates over. Is that alright?

 **Eric (12:42pm)**   
Of course! This is your apartment, you shouldn’t have to ask. Are they gonna be okay with me being around? :0

 **Jack (12:43pm)**   
Please, they’ll love you instantly! We’re coming over around 1

 **Eric (12:43pm)**   
:’) there should be enough pie for the three of y’all by the time you get back!

 **Jack (12:43pm)**   
:)

Jack doesn’t stop smiling throughout his shower.

* * *

“Whoa, damn!”

When Jack, Ransom and Hoslter step into the apartment they are greeted with a beautiful aroma of freshly baked pastries and the sound of music in the air.

“What the fuck is that smell?” Ransom asks. “Goddamn! It’s like my aunt’s house.”

“Bro,” Holster replies. “I’ve been to your aunt’s house. And no offense, but compared to this, her house smells like a shithole.”

Jack leads Ransom and Holster through his living room and to the kitchen door. As usual, Eric is elbows deep in flour kneading dough for his next pie.

Eric turns around and Jack can’t help the smile at the small smudges of flour on his cheek and his chin.

“Hi?” he greets.

“Hey, Eric,” Jack says. “This is Justin and Adam, two of my teammates. They’re Ransom and Holster usually, though. It’s their nicknames.”

“Hi. Nice to meet y’all. I would shake your hands but my hands are covered in flour.”

“It’s all good, bro,” Holster says. Ransom walks towards the counter of pies, staring at them like a hungry zombie. “Oh my god, I fucking love Beyonce!”

Eric looks up and smiles. “Beyonce is _amazing._ I saw Formation at least five times and I cried every single time.”

“Me fuckin too! None of these guys understand, especially Jack here.”

“So this is Beyonce,” Jack says.

Eric frowns. “You mean… you’ve never heard Beyonce before? Like, _ever?_ ”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Holster exclaims.  “This guy knows nothing about pop culture, it’s hopeless.”

“Jack, what rock have you been living under?

“A puck. He’s been living under a giant goddamn puck. Oh _dude!_ Dude, these look absolutely beautiful.”

“These are for my bakery. Our ovens and my oven back at my apartment broke so Jack’s oven is the only oven option I have.”

“Oh yeah,” Ransom says. “Jack told us about that. That sucks bigtime. Where’s your guys’ bakery?”

“It’s the bakery off of Main and Broadway. It’s called Peaches and Cream.”

“Oh dude, I think I’ve seen that place before. That’s the place that Marty keeps telling me about! I’ve always wanted to go there!”

“You should! It’s a great place. Also, I messed up the pies next to the sink if y’all want a bite.”

“Aw, hell yeah!”

Ransom and Holster almost tackle Eric down to get a piece of the pie. Jack, burying his hands in his pockets, laughs and hovers over him.

“How’s it going?” Jack asks in a soft voice over the excited yells of his defensemen.

“It’s going,” Eric says. “I am wearing my arms out, my god. By the time I’ll be done I’ll be able to bench press a whole goddamn building.”

“Well, if you do need help, I’m always here. Most of the time. Practice gets intense so some days I might be a bit dead.”

“Definitely! But honestly, you offering your oven is enough help, don’t worry.” Eric breathes out after he finishes kneading his dough. Pulling out a rolling pin, he adds, “Can you believe that all the pies sold out at the bakery yesterday?”

“No fuckin shit!” Holster says, his mouth full of pie. “I know you said you messed up on these pies, but this is literally the tastiest shit I’ve ever had, god fuckin’ bless! I would pay for fifty of these!”

“Dude,” Ransom replies. “I think I’m gonna cry. Crystal’s gonna kill us.”

“Crystal?” Eric asks.

“She’s our nutritionist,” Jack says. “Be careful. She’s been on our asses lately about what we should eat. She might come after you for blood.”

“She’ll have to go through us first!” Holster yells. “Your food is literally to die for!”

“Oh, um, thank you! Y’all are too kind.”

Jack smiles at the way Eric stutters and blushes at the constant flow of compliments he’s getting from Ransom and Holster.

“You guys should take the pie into the living room,” Jack says. “Feel free to use the TV, I’ll be there in a minute!”

“Fuck yeah!” Holster exclaims. “Time for some Parks and Rec!”

Ransom and Holster walk off, leaving Jack and Eric in the kitchen togehter. Suddenly, his phone starts beeping as he gets a series of text messages.

 **_Holster_ ** _added_ **_Jack_ ** _and_ **_Ransom_ ** _to the chat._

 **_Holster_ ** _named this chat GET JACK A CUTE BAKER BF 2K16._

 **Holster (1:01pm)**   
Dude……………. he is the literal cutest person ive ever seen

 **Holster (1:01pm)**   
not only cute but cute AND hot.... if u didnt have heart eyes 4 him i would b making my moves

 **Holster (1:01pm)**   
(dont worry i wont actually ask him out i’m just making a point)

 **Holster (1:02pm)**   
agreed…. also his pies are literal sex in my mouth like. U need to get this boy pronto!!!!

 **Holster (1:02pm)**   
this is ransom btw… too lazy to get my phone lol

Jack chuckles as he leans on the counter across from Eric, who now seems to be thoroughly focused on kneading the dough. He frowns. He thinks about the last time he saw Eric, bright and early in the morning and counts how many hours it’s been since then.

And now that he thinks about it, Jack does notice the tired look in his eyes despite the bright introductions he gave Ransom and Holster.

“Eric,” Jack says.

“Huh,” Eric replies.

“I leave for practice and you’re working on pies. I come back four hours later and you’re still working on pies.”

“Jack, it’s fine.”

“Did you ever take a break at all?”

“Yes, when I put the pie in the oven and I had to wait for it to bake!”

Jack narrows his eyes. “Don’t lie.”

Eric’s shoulders slump. “Fine. I made more pies while waiting for the pie in the oven to bake.”

“Take a break.”

“I’m still being paid for all these pies I’m making.”

Eric’s phone then rings from behind Jack, the sound of Beyonce echoing through the room. Jack leans back to see the caller ID.

“Lardo ‘Larissa’ Duan,” Jack reads. “That’s your manager, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Eric replies, seeing him take the phone. Reaching out his hand, he adds, “Give it to me.”

Jack gazes at Eric, letting the phone ring in his hand. At the very last second, he presses the phone to his ear and answers.

“Hello, Larissa” Jack greets.

“JACK ZIMMERMANN,” Eric yelps, running around the kitchen island and practically checking Jack. Of course, his normal 5’7” build has nothing against the muscular 6’1” professional athlete, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

Jack, in retaliation, puts the phone on speaker and lifts it above his head so Eric can’t reach it.

“What the fuck is going on?” Larissa asks.

“This is Jack Zimmermann and your baker boy is overworking himself.”

Eric does everything: he jumps, he uses the counter to try to tackle him, nothing works. He’s just running around in circles chasing an NHL star. Jack falters; Eric is incredibly quick even in the kitchen. He would make a great forward on ice.

“Jack Zimmermann needs to give me my phone back!”

“Bitty, if the NHL hockey robot is telling me that you’re overworking yourself, please take a fucking break! Even people who work nine to five have lunch breaks.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Eric mumbles. “Why did you call?”

“I’m just checking up on you. But it looks like you need to take a fuckin break, dude.”

Jack freezes in his place, lowering his arm. “Bitty?”

“That’s my hockey nickname.” He snatches the phone out of Jack’s hand. “Lardo, I’m fine. I have a few more pies to bake.”

“And do you promise to take a break before lugging all those pies to the bakery?”

“Yes, Lardo.”

“Jack Zimmermann, I’m hoping that you can keep Bitty in check?”

“LARDO!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack replies, smirking at Eric.

“Great. Also, my friends and I are looking forward to seeing the Falconers play this year. You should stop by the bakery sometime.”

“Thank you! And I definitely will. I’ll probably help Eric take all these pies back to the bakery.”

“Alright,” Eric groans. “Enough with the chitchat. _Bye_ , Lardo.”

With a chuckle, she ends the call with a “See ya later, Bits.”

Eric hangs up and points a finger right in Jack’s smirking face. “You are something.”

“I am?”

He huffs and continues where he left off, kneading dough.

“You really should take a break,” Jack says, placing a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I have really comfy leather couches that are great for napping.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that offer,” Eric replies absentmindedly.

“I’m serious. Once you get done with your last pie, join me, Rans, and Holster in the living room, okay?”

“Roger that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jack! This is my last pie.” Eric shoots him a look and a soft smile that makes Jack feel weird funny things in his stomach. “I’ll see you in the living room with your teammates, okay?”

Jack heads back to the living room where Ransom and Holster are watching what looks to be Parks and Recreation. Once he slumps down right next to the couch, his two defensemen immediately are zeroing in on him about Eric.

“So?” Holster whisper-shouts. “Did you get the booty?”

“You guys sounded like you were having a good time,” Ransom adds, waggling his eyebrows. “What even happened back there? Sounds like you were furiously making out against several various kitchen surfaces.”

“Ransom!” Jack exclaims, his face turning read at the sudden images that flashed through his mind. “Listen, it’s nothing, guys. Eric’s just overworked himself and will join us in a few minutes.”

“Dude,” Holster says. “Like I said time and time again, he's cute as fuck. And he makes the best pies. WHY HAVEN’T YOU ASKED HIM OUT YET?!”

“Oh my god, Holster, be quiet! The kitchen is right there!” Jack lightly punches Holster on the arm. “Also don’t hound him with questions when he comes in. I know you guys are suppose to be the ‘Best Wingmen Ever’ but don’t overwhelm him.”

“Aw,” Ransom says. “He’s thoughtful for his baker boyfriend.”

“Damn, those are #relationshipgoals,” Holster sighs. “Just like Leslie and Ben.”

“Why do you keep saying hashtag out loud?” Jack groans.

* * *

It’s not long before Eric joins Jack, Ransom, and Holster on the couch. By then, every single pie that Eric put aside for Jack had been destroyed, leaving empty pie tins on the coffee table and crumbs everywhere.

“Hey Eric!” Holster greets. “We’re watching Parks and Rec right now.”

“Oh nice!” he replies, slumping next to Jack like he’s a pile of potatoes. “I never got around to watching that show.”

“Are you serious, dude? It’s an amazing show! We should marathon it someday.”

“Also, bro,” Ransom says. “Your pies are literally heaven. Like, you probably get this like a million times a day but I think you spoiled me for eating any other pie  _ever."_

“Aw, thank you,” Eric replies. “I really appreciate it.”

The conversation dies down as Ransom and Holster keep a steady, yet hushed conversation gossiping about their teammates. Eric pulls out his phone to thumb through social media, his body sinking further and further into the couch. Jack watches as his eyes droop and his body slants so it’s leaning against his arm.

“You’re right,” Eric mumbles. “The couch is really comfy.”

Jack can’t help but lean towards him, his arm flush against Eric’s. As a result, his head falls on Jack’s shoulder. 

Jack doesn’t remember when he reaches back to rest his arm on the back of his couch behind Eric but he doesn’t complain at all when the now sleeping body cuddles up next to him. He emits some of the cutest, tiniest snores that Jack has ever heard in his entire life.

His phone buzzes to find a message from Holster.

 **Holster (1:21pm)**   
smooth, zimmermann ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Jack rolls his eyes.

He forgot what it was like to have someone next to you. It’s almost comforting; it makes Jack feel the toll that weeks and weeks of practice has taken on his body. Suddenly, as episodes of Parks and Recreation pass, Jack feels himself become sleepier. Suddenly, he’s also leaning against Eric, his head resting atop a nest of blonde hair. He closes his eyes and doesn’t notice Ransom and Holster standing up from his couch.

* * *

Jack wakes up to an empty apartment and a series of messages on his phone.

 **Holster (2:15pm)**   
u and eric looked too comfy we didnt want to wake u!

 **Ransom (2:21pm)**   
yea u guys are so cute wtf……. Pls ask him out

 **Holster (2:49pm)** **  
** also tater and snowy wants to take us to sushi for dinner at like 7. theyre paying. let us kno if u wanna go!!!!!!!

Jack chuckles as he thumbs through iMessenger to find the messages from Eric.

 **Eric (3:01pm)** **  
** Hey jack! I woke up just in time to take the pie out… sorry for sleeping all over you! x___x guess I really was tired from all the baking!

 **Eric (3:01pm)**   
you looked comfy so I didn’t want to wake you! And don’t worry about the pies, I have a bag that can hold all them!

 **Eric (3:02pm)**   
Again, thank you so so much for letting me use your kitchen! The ovens should be fixed sometime this week and soon I’ll be out of your hair! ^_^

Jack’s stomach drop at the last tweet. It’s been nice having Eric around the house. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone else in the same living space together. Granted, Eric’s not technically living with Jack but the thought of his kitchen being used and his apartment being occupied makes things a little less empty. If he's being perfectly honest, he doesn't want Eric to stop using his oven. 

 **Jack (5:13pm)** **  
** It’s okay, you’re always welcome in my apartment!

Jack sighs as he hits 'send'. He also replies Holster’s message with an affirmative and proceeds to get dressed for sushi tonight.

* * *

 **Eric (10:43pm)  
** Gah, I can’t sleep…… I think it was that gosh darn nap I took at Jack’s apartment

 **Eric (10:43pm)**   
But I mean… I have never slept on a more comfier couch before omg

Jack stares at his phone in confusion. He’s lounging on his couch eating a half-eaten sandwich from his lunch a few hours ago. He has the television set to the History Channel and was half paying attention to the history documentary when he finds a text from Eric.

 **Eric (10:45pm)**   
Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!! I meant to send this to someone else >.<

 **Eric (10:45pm)**   
Hopefully I didn’t bother you

Jack stares at the blue chat bubbles, idly wondering who this “someone else” is. He hopes it isn't a significant other of any kind.

 **Jack (10:46pm)**   
It’s okay. I haven’t been able to sleep either, haha

 **Jack (10:47pm)**   
I might need to break out the chamomile tea

 **Jack (10:48pm)**   
I can give you some… it really helps w/ falling asleep

 **Jack (10:49pm)**   
That is, if you want

Jack mentally kicks himself. He hopes the texts don’t seem too desperate.

 **Eric (10:50pm)**   
Omg, that actually sounds perfect!!

 **Eric (10:50pm)**   
You should bring over the tea and we can make it in my kitchen

 **Eric (10:51pm)**   
I’m always hanging around your apartment so it’s only fair that I show you around my humble abode! :)

 **Eric (10:51pm)**   
That is, if you’re okay with it :o

Jack smiles and within a minute he’s already typing out a reply saying that he is more than happy to come over. He grabs a few packets of tea from his kitchen counter and makes his way over to across the hallway.

“Hello!” Eric greets with a smile, opening the door to let Jack in.

Jack doesn’t expect his apartment to feel so... welcoming. While Jack’s apartment feels more like a space to live in, Eric’s feels much more like _home._ An earthen palette colors the entire living room in yellow, orange, and brown. Even the lighting basks everything in a warmer tone despite it being midnight currently.

“Hey,” Jack replies. “Wow, your apartment looks amazing.”

“Aw, thank you. Lardo helped with a lot of the interior planning. She majored in art back in Samwell so she has a great concept of colors and composition. Let’s go to the kitchen! I have some water heating up for the tea. Plus, I have some mini-pies to go with them.”

Jack isn’t too surprised to find the kitchen thoroughly used; every single surface has every type of baking utensil and equipment and ingredients as possible.

“Samwell, eh?” Jack asks taking a seat in one of the counter stools in front of him sits a plate of mini-pies that look very tempting. “My mom went there.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” Eric grabs two mugs and sets it in front of him and Jack. “Actually, you’d be happy to find out that I played at the hockey team. I was a forward.”

“Oh, really?” Jack has heard Eric mention hockey before, but he didn’t think he actually played the sport.

“Yeah. No one really expects it because I’m short and tiny, but I did figure skating back in Georgia so I was pretty fast. I hated checking, though.”

Jack winces. He remembers the last time he got checked; the opposing team shot a hockey puck straight to his chin and it hurt like hell. Luckily, he only got away with a few stitches. “That’s one thing I’m not looking forward to when the season comes up.”

“When’s your first game?”

“In about a month. Practices are getting more intense.”

It’s almost seamless with Eric, the way they can just flow from one conversation to the next. Jack’s never really felt at ease with someone before; even with Ransom and Holster he finds himself being a little guarded. Eric talks about his bakery and how popular it has gotten over the course of a few months because Peaches and Cream was featured in Tastemade’s list of “Best Bakeries in the East Coast”. Sometimes he’s grateful for the traffic but sometimes it just gets incredibly overwhelming sometimes. He rarely gets to visit family in Georgia because he just has no time for a day off.

Jack, on the other hand, talks about his family in Montreal and how he likes to visit them during the summer during off-season. He talks about life in the NHL and the struggles of having to deal with press conferences and invasive reporters and people on social media.

“I mean,” Jack says, nervous as he eyes Eric. “People expect me to mess up. I’ve been good with ignoring what they say, but sometimes it’s just difficult. I don’t know if you’ve ever googled my name or my dad’s name or anything like that.”

Eric blushes. “Uh, I mean. I have looked up your name before, but I was just curious! Oh god, this is probably really weird. I mean I did read your, um, _backstory_ on Wikipedia but I don’t really know you so I don’t care? I mean, I do care because it’s a huge part of your life but, it’s just… I know you only as Jack-the-amazing-neighbor-that-let-me-use-his-oven so I don’t want you to feel weird about your past with me.”

Jack laughs. Eric is rambling and even he has to admit it’s charming and adorable, especially the way his Southern accent becomes more distinct. “It’s okay. I understand. Thank you for letting me know, though.”

A few hours later (when had time pass by so fast?) when all the mini-pies have been eaten and the tea finally sets in, Jack and Eric finally call it a night.

“Thank you so much for keeping me company,” Eric says.

“Please,” Jack replies. “Thank _you_ for the pies! They were delicious.”

“Awh, it’s no problem. You honestly deserve a month’s worth of pies for letting me use your oven.”

Jack’s a bit disappointed about going back to his apartment. Sure, they live across the hall but he just loves the welcoming feel of Eric’s apartment. It’s so much better than his, frankly, drab apartment.

But when Jack is finally in bed ready to go to sleep, he sees a notification from Twitter and Instagram light up on his phone that makes him feel happy in the way that Eric’s presence in his kitchen has been for the past week.

_Eric Bittle (@omgcheckplease) followed you._

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned for the next and final chapter :D

**Author's Note:**

> 3 chapters is an estimate. depending on how much i write it might be 4!
> 
> thanks for reading! hmu @ zimmboners on tumblr


End file.
